Eskkar spent the first part of the morning making sure his compound stood ready for any further attack. When he felt certain that the house and Trella would be safe, he moved to the barracks, seeing to the wounded men recovering there, and making sure the soldiers had regained control of the weapons. Then he took a quick tour of the city, before finally returning to his courtyard. By then it was apparent the resistance had collapsed. Eskkar set up a command center to direct the soldiers and citizens clamoring for his attention.
Everyone claimed an urgent need to see him, and this time Eskkar had no one available to sort out the trivial from the more urgent. Bantor had ridden out to hunt down Ariamus at midmorning, and only the gods knew when he would be back. Gatus arrived, and sought to help, but he still hadn’t fully recovered from his own wound. That left Alexar as the only senior man still standing. Eskkar promoted him to subcommander, and ordered him to take charge of the gates.
The three of them spent the morning organizing the soldiers, issuing weapons to the nobles’ guards, establishing patrols, and directing the search for any remnants of Korthac’s force. Fortunately the stables and horses survived intact, and Alexar soon had mounted parties of men searching the countryside, looking for those who escaped over the wall. Finally things quieted down enough for Eskkar to slip away. An hour before noon, he left Gatus in charge and climbed the stairs to his quarters.
Standing in the bedroom doorway, he saw Trella and Annok-sur lying side by side on the bed, both asleep. Trella looked pale from loss of blood.
Korthac’s cut and the ordeal of childbirth had exhausted even her sturdy frame. Most of Trella’s servants had returned, including those driven off by Korthac. Already they had replaced the broken furniture and exchanged the bloody blankets for clean ones. The room looked almost the same as the day Eskkar rode north. Except for the cradle.
He’d visited the bedroom several times before, just quick checks to reassure himself of Trella’s well-being, and to make sure she and Annok-sur had everything they needed. On the last visit, Trella took his hand. She tried to speak, but he knew she needed rest, so he simply squeezed her hand and told her to sleep.
Now Eskkar looked into the bedroom and saw an unknown woman with a large bruise on her cheek sitting beside the cradle, rocking it gently, her eyes on the infant. She rose and came toward him, motioning him to follow her through the doorway.
“Your wife needs her sleep, Lord Eskkar,” she whispered. “The babe needed to be fed, and his crying woke her. Now they both need their rest.”
For the first time Eskkar noticed how quiet the house was. Even the soldiers in the courtyard kept their voices low out of concern for his wife.
“You are…”
“My name is Drusala. I was midwife to Lady Trella.” She stepped back inside, picked up the cradle, and returned, holding the cradle in both arms and turning it so he could see the child’s face. “This is your son. He was born last night, a few hours past midnight.”
Eskkar stared in fascination at the tiny infant, his eyes shut and face still red from crying. Eskkar had scarcely had time to look at him since he’d carried the babe to Trella after the fight. This time he gazed not at a baby, but at his son, his heir that Trella had promised him months ago.
“Have you decided on a name, lord?”
Eskkar spoke without hesitation. “Sargon. His name is Sargon of Akkad.” Eskkar and Trella had chosen the name months ago, in fact the very day the Alur Meriki were driven off. Now he looked in wonderment at the heir who would bring the city together in a way that even Eskkar and Trella, both strangers to Akkad, never could. His son would become part of that future, would carry Eskkar’s line down through the ages.
“The child… he seems so small.” Eskkar reached out and touched the infant’s fingers, amazed at their softness.
“The babe… Sargon came earlier than we expected. That’s why he is so small. But he is healthy, and I expect he will grow as tall and strong as his father.”
“Was the birth… difficult, Drusala? I mean, did Trella suffer much?”
“The presence of Korthac made it… He complained about the noise.
He threatened… he said that…”
“He’ll make no more threats, Drusala,” Eskkar said. “Is there anything you need, anything at all?”
“No, lord. I’ll stay and watch over your son. Lady Trella will need to feed Sargon again soon enough. We will have to find someone to help nurse the child. The early birth caught us unaware, and we didn’t have time to arrange a wet nurse. Right now it’s best to let Lady Trella sleep as much as she can.”
The mention of Korthac’s name reminded Eskkar of his prisoner.
“Keep my son safe, Drusala.” He reached out and gently touched the child’s cheek again. A strange feeling passed over him, as if the gods chose that moment to forge a bond between the child and the father. Eskkar found himself smiling. “Send word when Trella wakens.”
He left the room, descending the stairs and crossing the courtyard to the smaller house. Three soldiers guarded the room that held Korthac.
They stepped aside as Eskkar entered. He looked down at the figure lying on the floor. The sun didn’t provide much light in the low-ceilinged chamber, but he saw blood still covered the Egyptian’s face. They’d bound his hands behind him.
Eskkar considered having the man dragged outside, but didn’t want another spectacle. “Bring a torch,” he commanded. He found a stool and moved it closer to Korthac, eying the man who’d nearly killed him. A soldier returned, carrying the torch, and handed it to Eskkar.
“Leave us. And draw the curtain.”
When they were alone, Eskkar lowered the torch and used its light to examine his prisoner’s face. Korthac glowered back at him, using his one good eye. Blood had crusted over the other, the one Eskkar had smashed during the fight. Korthac struggled to breathe, thanks to the broken nose.
His lower lip was swollen and split, and he squinted up at the torch held just above his face.
“You are Eskkar?”
“Yes, Korthac. I’m the man whose wife you tried to steal.”
“Eskkar has returned.” Korthac tried to laugh, but the sound turned into a painful fit of coughing, and it took a few moments before he could stop. “You fought well… for an ignorant barbarian. And you should have died on my blade. No man ever defeated me in battle. Only your slave saved your life.”
The words came out slowly, each one spoken with care. Even through the man’s pain, the voice sounded melodious, with just the trace of an accent.
“Perhaps,” Eskkar said, “but I remember you running into the bedroom, trying to put the door between us.”
Korthac grimaced at the reminder. “You handled your long sword well enough. Did you never lose a fight, barbarian?”
“Just once, that I recall,” Eskkar said, “but fortune favored me, and I survived.”
“You should have died in Bisitun.” This time Korthac’s voice held a trace of bitterness that he couldn’t conceal.
“Yes, your assassins missed their chance there.”
“So I see. You must tell me what happened. I was supposed to get word, even if they failed. Ariamus swore they would kill you, but.. you made it so easy for me. You divided your forces while you enjoyed your pleasures in the north. A child could have taken your city.”
Eskkar felt a pang of anger at the truth of the remark. Everyone seemed to know about his dalliance in Bisitun. “Rebba told me much about you, Egyptian. Trella’s asleep now, but when she awakens, I’ll hear the rest.”
The torch sputtered, and Eskkar moved it away from Korthac’s face.
“Most of your men are dead or prisoners. Only Ariamus got away, with a handful of others, but Bantor will run them down soon enough. In a few days, the city will be cleansed of your memory.”
“Akkad will be a great city someday. It was worth the gamble.”
“If that were the only thing between us, I’d give you a quick death. But you terrorized Trella and threatened even my son. You’ll take the torture for that. Tomorrow will be your last day of life, Korthac. You’ll be weak from your wounds, and you’ll suffer greatly.”
“You’ll get no satisfaction from torturing me.” Korthac struggled to keep his voice firm and his words even. “Your slave-wife and her whelp were mine. She knelt before me… begged for my mercy. I only regret that I didn’t kill her when I had the chance.”
Eskkar reached out with his foot and gave Korthac’s broken leg a shove. The injured man couldn’t control the gasp of pain that wrenched from his mouth.
“I think, Korthac, that you should have stayed in Egypt.”
“You won’t rule here long, barbarian. You’re not wise enough, even with your slave woman whispering in your ear.”
The words hung in the air, as if in prophecy, and Eskkar felt a chill pass over him. He took his time thinking about them. He knew that Korthac still fought, that he still searched for any way to inflict harm on his captor.
That made him a worthy opponent, fighting to the last breath, seeking to give some worry to his enemy.
“Perhaps what you say will happen. But Trella says I learn from my mistakes, and the people of Akkad have learned something, too. We’ll be more careful in the future.” Eskkar stood up and pushed the stool away. He paused in the doorway, and turned back toward his prisoner. “I know one thing, Korthac. My son will rule here after I am gone. That the gods have promised. Think of that when you take the torture.”
Outside, Alexar and a handful of soldiers stood there, curiosity on their faces, no doubt wondering about what had passed inside. Eskkar shoved the torch into the dirt to extinguish it, then handed the still-smoking stick to the nearest man.
“Watch him closely. No one is to visit him or hurt him. Keep two men with him at all times. He must not kill himself. We want him alive, to take the torture in the morning. Give him plenty of water and a few mouthfuls of wine. Food if he wants any. I don’t want him passing out too soon.”
“We’ll watch him, don’t worry about that,” Alexar said.
Eskkar went to the well at the back of the house, drew up a bucket of water, and washed his hands and face. By the time he finished, a servant joined him, carrying a clean tunic. A soldier drew up more water and Eskkar washed the rest of his body, taking his time and scrubbing away the last traces of blood and dirt.
Feeling refreshed, and dressed in a clean tunic for the first time in days, Eskkar returned to the workroom and sat down, the first chance he’d had to take some rest since leaving Rebba’s farm. He’d hardly slept from the time he left Bisitun. The servants had left pitchers of wine and water on the table, next to day-old bread. No one in Akkad had the thought or time to bake this morning. Eskkar soaked the bread in his wine cup before eating, but drank only water to wash it down. Too much wine, and he’d be of little use to anyone.
For the first few hours after the fighting ended, everyone sought to speak, plead, or advise Eskkar. But as soon as he knew Akkad had been secured, he refused to deal further with anyone. He ordered Gatus and Alexar to keep everyone but the subcommanders, healers, and servants away from the upper rooms. A dozen Hawk Clan guards, released from the barracks and still weak from their ordeal, stood guard over the house, directed by Mitrac, whose arrows had brought down the last of the insurgents within Akkad an hour after sunrise.
With something in his stomach, Eskkar felt himself relaxing. It was good to just sit and rest.
Steps sounded on the stairs and Gatus limped into the room and closed the door behind him. He took the seat across the table. A fresh bandage wrapped around his body above his sword belt. “How are they?” He kept his voice low, and inclined his head toward the bedroom.
“Good. Both asleep, along with the child.”
“Thank the gods for that, Eskkar.” Gatus kept his voice low, even though the door stood closed. “I wanted to help her, but… I couldn’t even get word to her.”
“There was nothing you could do.”
The old soldier picked up a cup with hands that trembled a little, filled it with wine, and took a sip. “If it weren’t for Tammuz and his woman, I’d be twice dead. Now we both owe him.”
“His woman?” He remembered seeing Tammuz and a girl earlier in the day, just a glimpse in the lane outside the house.
Gatus laughed. “You remember the slave girl Trella rescued, the one being beaten half to death by her master? She gave the girl to Tammuz.
You should have seen the boy’s face. He was more scared of her than any three barbarians. She killed at least one bandit that I know of, maybe two.
Tammuz killed a few more during the confusion.”
“I’ll have to thank him, then. There are so many to thank… especially you. Then Drakis, Annok-sur, even Rebba, they all put their lives at stake.”
Gatus ignored the praise. “Not me. All I did was hide, then kill a few rogues in the confusion. By the time I got to the barracks, Klexor had fi nished off most of the Egyptians. The rest surrendered.” He sighed. “Anyway, I set up a command post at the barracks. Corio is there, working with Rebba and the nobles still alive. They’re finding those who collaborated with Korthac, and locking them in the same prison the Egyptian kept our men. What will you do to them?”
Eskkar shrugged. The traitors could be dealt with later, when order was established and the council reconvened. “When Trella recovers, she’ll decide who should be punished. How is Nicar?”
“He took a nasty knock from Ariamus, but he’s back in his house, carried there by his friends and family. He’ll be up and about in a few days.”
“What else?” Eskkar’s legs ached from weariness. His eyes felt heavy again, and the need for sleep passed over him like a wave.
“There’s been at least a dozen murders since the fighting stopped, people taking their revenge against those who supported Korthac.”
“To be expected, I suppose,” Eskkar said. “Anyone I should be concerned about?”
“No, not really, just… I did recognize one of the dead. A tanner, who also happened to be the former owner of Tammuz’s new slave. Old Kuri found the body, it seems.”
Eskkar shrugged. No one would concern themselves over a drunken and unpopular tanner.
“Drakis lost most of his men,” Gatus went on. “He took several wounds, but seized and held the gate despite being greatly outnumbered.
He had the worst of the fi ghting, but because of him, Bantor slaughtered most of Korthac’s men and captured the rest. They never got the gate open, and the ground there was covered with bodies.”
“Will Drakis live?”
“So Ventor says. And Grond is resting downstairs. He should recover in a few weeks. The man’s made of bronze.”
“He not only saved my life, he found the way into the house, Gatus.”
“You’ll have to raise his pay again, I suppose.”
Eskkar smiled for a moment before he drained his water cup and refilled it. “I told Alexar to take charge here. He’s organizing the search parties, looking for any of Korthac’s stragglers.”
Gatus shook his head in admiration. “Not a scratch on the man. Fought at both gates, killed at least a dozen men, and didn’t even get his tunic dirty.”
“Did you meet Yavtar? I gave him some men and told him to guard the docks, and to make sure that no boats leave Akkad.”
“Yes, he fought at the main gate, too. I’ve given the same order to those at the main gate. No one is to leave until we’ve rounded up all of Korthac’s men and our own traitors. I’ve got men riding around the walls, looking for anyone trying to slip away.”
Hundreds of angry Akkadians seeking revenge had joined in the search for the remnants of Korthac’s men. The Egyptians, recognizable by their darker skin color, proved easy to find. Some of the men who Ariamus had brought into the city still had to be unearthed. Together, soldiers and citizens searched house by house, and one by one, were rounding up the bandits who had terrorized Akkad.
“Good. When Bantor returns, we can start patrolling the countryside.”
“The soldiers searched Akkad for Ariamus, but no one saw the traitor-ous filth. His body wasn’t among the dead. Finally a boy came forward and said that he saw Ariamus and some Egyptians go over the south wall.”
Eskkar yawned. “The battle rage is still on Bantor. He won’t be back until he finds Ariamus. I told him to bring him back alive if he could.”
Gatus finished his wine and ripped a handful of bread from the loaf.
“Bantor fought well. Do you think he’ll catch Ariamus? The man’s like a snake in a swamp for hiding.”
“You wouldn’t ask that if you’d seen Bantor.”
“I’ll be just as happy to piss on his body,” Gatus said. “Ariamus strutted around Akkad, looking pleased as any rich merchant with three fat wives.”
Gatus leaned across the table. “Your eyes are closing. Why don’t you get some sleep? I’ll relieve Alexar and keep watch downstairs.”
Before Eskkar could argue, Gatus was on his way, closing the door to the upper chamber behind him. Eskkar tried to finish his bread, but he had no appetite. His thoughts wandered, so he lowered his head on his arms and closed his eyes, to rest for a few moments.
He fell into a deep sleep within a dozen heartbeats. So deep that he didn’t hear the servants passing to and from the inner room, nor his son waking and crying to be fed.
When he awoke, his neck and arms felt stiff, and his back complained when he straightened up. His throat felt parched, and he drained his water cup, then stretched his arms until the stiffness went away. Rested now, a glance at the window told him he’d slept for more than an hour. The door to the bedroom stood open, and he heard Trella’s voice. The chair scraped loudly when he arose, and in a moment Drusala appeared.
“Lady Trella is asking for you, Lord Eskkar. Can you come to her?”
Trella, her head propped up by a cushion, smiled at him when he approached. Annok-sur had gone. Sargon nestled in Trella’s arm, nursing, and a bandage covered her side. Drusala slipped out of the room, leaving the two of them alone.
“Have you seen your son, Eskkar?” Her voice sounded stronger, and she reached out toward him with her hand.
He sat on the edge of the bed, taking care not to disturb the child.
“Yes. The midwife told me of his delivery, and what you suffered. Are you in pain?” He took her hand in his.
“Ventor and Drusala say I will recover. The pain is passing now that you and Sargon are both here.”
“Trella, I’m sorry. I should have come sooner.” The words came out in a rush.
“We’ll speak of it later, husband. All that matters is that you returned to save Akkad.”
“I didn’t come back for Akkad. I came for you. The moment I heard … I came as fast as I could.”
She squeezed his hand, and tears formed in her eyes. “You saved our son’s life. That’s all that matters. Korthac would have killed us both soon enough, after he’d taken his pleasures.”
The thought of the humiliation she’d endured wrenched at him, and he held her hand tighter. “As Korthac reminded me, you saved my life last night. Without your little knife thrust… Where did you get such a thing?”
“The birthing knife. A gift from Drusala. We’ll have to repay that debt.”
The baby squirmed at her breast for a moment before settling down again, and she stroked his head. “We knew Korthac was concealing something, but I never thought… none of us suspected anything like this.” She shook her head at her failure. “He laughed at me, said I was just an ignorant girl trying to play at ruling men. He made me.. I had to…”
Eskkar reached out to touch her lips with his finger, stopping the flow of words. “I’ve fought many men, Trella, but no one with Korthac’s skills.
Never. But for the luck of the gods, and your help, he might have won. It’s no disgrace to battle a worthy opponent.”
She blinked back the tears. “Your luck still runs true, then. The gods continue to favor you.”
“The gods favor me because of you.” He gazed down at the child in wonder, and his voice softened. “Now they’ll have to watch over Sargon as well. He seems… so small and helpless.” Eskkar touched the child’s cheek with his finger, fascinated by the boy’s soft skin.
“Sargon will need your protection and strength for many years, husband. He will rule over our city someday. Who knows what he will accomplish?”
“He and Akkad will need your wisdom. Just as it needs Corio’s new walls to defend it.”
“Long after we are gone, our voices will linger in these walls, for as long as this place remains. Let us hope our son honors us both.”
The child had stopped nursing and fallen asleep. Eskkar stroked its fi ne black hair, feeling a pride grow inside him that he’d never known before. His son. The son who would carry on his line, who would make Eskkar live on through the ages to come, lay before him, nestled safely in his mother’s arms.
“You seem pleased with our son. I hope you will teach him many things. How to rule, how to fight, how to lead.”
“He will learn more from you than I can ever teach him. You speak of fighting, but fighting a war is easy. Destroying is easy. Building a new way of life out of what is left is hard. That’s what he will learn from his mother.”
“Then we will teach him together, husband.”
“Yes, together.” He leaned down and kissed her, taking care not to awaken the child. But her lips were warm, and still held the promise he’d always found there, the gift of love and tenderness that had won him over months ago. Eskkar put his arms around both of them, holding them close.
Trella had more tears on her face, but this time he knew they were tears of happiness, and he kissed them away.